Catch Up
by Halfsan
Summary: -Oneshot- Dan just wants to enjoy his burger, but that stupid /jerkface/ has to ruin everything. Jerkshipping.


**I've hopped into the Dan Vs. fandom. I really like it. So I wrote things for it. I've had this on my tumblr account for some time now, and I decided to put a version up. Jerkshipping is hella great by the by. This fic was inspired by an "Imagine Your OTP" prompt. And there is a companion to this fic that I'll upload later. ;D For now, enjoy.  
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Dan decided to order at the counter rather than the drive-through at Burgerphile. Considering his last experience of them getting his order wrong, he figured it save him the trouble should they make the same mistake twice. He paid for his food—using money he borrowed from Chris, naturally—and unwrapped it right there. No cheese. Perfect. Dan barely muttered a thanks, swiping about six or seven ketchup packets before heading back outside.

As he reached for his car keys, Dan glanced over to the outside patio that he never took time to notice. He thought about maybe just sitting and eating there. The December weather was chilly, but surprisingly warm enough to warrant a jacket unnecessary. Dan pondered with the thought, until his stomach angrily protested at him, demanding immediate consumption.

"You win this time," he mumbled at his belly, heading over to one of the empty tables. Dan sat down, cringing at the sound the metal chair made against the concrete when he scooted it forward. After he was settled, he laid his food out before him and began applying his condiments. Two packs of ketchup went on the burger itself, while the rest went on the wrapping paper for dipping—wait, people don't usually _dip_ their burgers? Too bad.

Shark-like teeth took a greedy bite of the burger, and Dan felt his hunger begin to calm down. Yeah, this was peaceful. The gentle breeze left a pleasant sensation on his skin, the sun wasn't too bright, he was at his favorite food place, eating his favorite food with no one but himself… well, there were a few couples sitting at the other tables, but they were too occupied with their lovey-dovey nonsense. The need to satiate his hunger was enough to make him ignore everyone else.

"This seat taken?"

Just the _sound_ of that voice made him nearly choke. Dan regretted not buying a drink, but he only stole—_borrowed_—enough money to get a burger. He didn't have to look up to know who it was. To be honest, he didn't want to see that face, for fear of vomiting everywhere, but his absinthe green eyes wandered up, narrowing at the smug look the other gave him.

"_You_." Dan hissed through his gritted teeth, venom coating his inflection. Dan didn't know his name—his real name, anyway—so he stuck with pronouns, and even thought of a few more colorful nicknames for later. "Go away. I'm _not_ interested in whatever it is you're selling."

The impostor tossed his hands up defensively, taking a seat on the opposite side of the table, despite the growl that rumbled in Dan's throat. "Easy, Tigershark." Oh Jesus, now he was giving him pet names? "I'm not even working today. Just dropped by to refresh myself." His counterpart punctuated his statement by gesturing to his Burgerphile cup. Dan thought about swiping the drink to ease the lump in his throat, but he could see the inside of the straw coated with an opaque liquid. Milkshake. Pass.

"Then _what_ do you want?" Dan crossed his arms, leaning back as he gave the identity thief an icy stare. He had half a mind to gather his things and leave, but Dan couldn't shake the curiosity of why the impostor approached him with seemingly no ill intent.

The identity thief shifted his position, resting his elbows on the table and intertwining his fingers together, using them as a bridge to rest his chin upon. As he crossed his legs, the tip of his shoe brushed against Dan's shin. Instinctively, it made him scoot backwards, the loud metal scraping making his repulsion more evident. Something sparked in those azure eyes as Dan reeled back. The impostor's brow arched, a subtle ghostly smile spreading across his lips, "Nothing, really. Just thought as _old friends_, we had some catching up to do."

"We are NOT friends!" Dan clarified with an angry shout. His hand slammed on the table, while the other pointed at his counterpart, shaking with rage. "As far as I'm concerned, we aren't even _acquaintances_!"

The impostor didn't even budge from his outburst. He calmly took a swig of his milkshake, and spoke. "_C'mon_, Dan-o, no need to make a scene," he chuckled. "Really, how've you been?"

Dan once again felt his counterpart's boot come into contact with his leg; this time, however, it remained there, so it couldn't have been an accidental touch like before. Especially when he slowly began rubbing up and down his shin. Dan felt a shiver run down his spine. It was almost…

"What the fuck are you doing?" Dan demanded, his eye twitching from irritation and… some _other_ sensation.

"I'm not doing anything," the impostor insisted, his mischievous grin turning serpentine. Dan roughly gripped the edge of the table, as he felt the identity thief focus his touch further up, just along his inner thigh. His teeth bared as he tried to fight the sensation anyway he could. His chest heaved with slow, heavy breaths, resisting the urge to cry out. Dan's entire body tingled with agitated arousal, shaking, sweating, and a curious bulge forming in his pants.

"S-stop it." His command was barely audible. Dan feared if he opened his mouth, he might scream, which usually he'd be okay with. He screamed in public all the time, but_ this_ kind of scream he'd rather not share with the world. Especially due to the fact that_ he_ was the one that brought the urge upon him.

"_Stop what_?" Still, the impostor feigned ignorance, that shit-eating grin never leaving his face. His foot slid further up, eventually finding the lump of arousal, gently, tantalizingly rubbing at it with the tip of his boot.

Dan was practically squirming in his seat, fire sparking within him, slowly spreading through his body, engulfing it in heated pleasure. His mind hazed, growing dizzy as the blood rushed to his face—among other places—still desperately fighting the urge to moan for more. He could have just got up and walked away, but it was too late now. Dan was absolutely paralyzed by the impostor's touch.

"Ah… ahhh…_ s-sto—ahh_…" Dan squeezed his eyes shut, about to lose control. His hips had already started bucking, subtle thrusts to urge his counterpart to keep going, despite the protest his voice was making. Dan was literally gasping for air, he was _so close_, until suddenly, it stopped. His eyes opened, half-lidded gaze set curiously on the identity thief. He rose from his seat, and Dan noted that he was still smirking.

"You know what, I actually have to be somewhere right now," he admitted. As he walked past Dan, he placed his hand on his shoulder, causing Dan's body to jolt. The impostor dipped his head down, whispering into his ear, "let's _catch up_ again sometime." And with that, he was gone.

Dan sunk his sharp teeth into his bottom lip, both in fury and embarrassment. His fists came crashing down on the table, and his anger bubbled up until he finally cried out, with every decibel his voice could manage.

"_COCKTEEEEEAAAAASSSEEEEEEE!_"

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**Originally, I wanted to write the ending different. This was something I wrote as I was walking out the door for work, literally. Someone mentioned I should keep the end the way it is, so I did. I hope you all enjoy!**


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